


Dans le Noir

by Marzos



Category: Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, birthday gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6550120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzos/pseuds/Marzos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mattie thought it'd be fun to try dining in the dark. Carmilla isn't a fan of the dark or cheap gimmicks, but since it was her sister she agreed. </p><p>Except Mattie has to cancel at the last minute. And Carmilla is forced to have dinner with some stranger she can't even see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dans le Noir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SoGayitWrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoGayitWrites/gifts).



> A prompt written as a birthday gift--happy birthday friend! :D

“What the fuck do you _mean,_ you’re not coming?” 

Carmilla held the phone to her ear, squinting in the dim light of the restaurant. She didn’t want to do this. Mattie was the one into all of this hipster dining shit. Carmilla would very much rather go to a nice, well lit French bistro. Or a McDonald’s. As long as she could see. 

“Millie, what do you want me to do? I got called into a board meeting. It’s not as if I _enjoy_ these things.” 

“Then can I go?” 

“I might be able to get out and meet you there later.” 

“Mattie--” 

“Besides, you might _enjoy_ it.” 

“Mattie...look,” Carmilla lowered her voice, “you know I’m not exactly a _fan_ of the dark.” 

“Don’t worry about _that,_ darling, you won’t be eating by yourself.” 

“What is that supposed to--” 

“Have fun!” 

“THE FUCK MATT--hello.” 

A waiter stared at Carmilla, trying not to look too uncomfortable. 

“Um, your table, ma’am. You made reservations for two?” 

Carmilla grit her teeth. “My sister isn’t coming.” 

She had to follow her waiter into the restaurant--the very dark, in fact pitch black, restaurant. Carmilla grit her teeth and wondered for the millionth time why eating in total darkness was _fun._

“You’ll be seated with someone shortly,” the waiter said, and Carmilla guided herself into a seat. She ordered wine and sat back, waiting for someone to show up. 

She didn’t need to wait for long. 

“This will be your table, Miss Hollis.” 

“Thank you!” 

Carmilla heard the scrape of a chair, and the other person--a woman, from the sound of her voice--sat down. 

“Hello, I’m Laura! It’s so nice to meet you--or I guess sort of meet you--since I have no idea what you look like--but still.” 

Carmilla was struck first by the sound of her voice. Her voice was light and airy, with a lot of energy. It was kind of pleasant to the ear, Carmilla had to admit. 

“Let me guess,” Carmilla said, “you’re blonde.” 

“What?” 

“Your voice makes me want to say you’re blonde.” 

“...Okay,” Laura said, voice obviously disgruntled, “and here I was, thinking your voice was kind of nice.” 

And Carmilla, in her quest to find some way to make this dinner enjoyable, realized three things: 

This Laura girl thought she had a nice voice

Carmilla was _very_ aware of the effect her voice could have on people

And she could have a lot of fun playing with that. 

“Anyway, I’m brunette, thank you very much,” Laura finished. 

Carmilla surreptitiously cleared her throat. 

“My apologies, sweetheart. Name’s Carmilla. Carmilla Karnstein.” 

She deliberately added a few layers of smokiness to her tone, drawing out each syllable. She wished she could see Laura’s reaction--if she had one. 

“Oh. Laura Hollis. ‘Course, I already told you my name…” 

The waiter came with Carmilla’s glass of wine, and she took a sip. 

“What menu would you like to order from?” The waiter asked. 

“What does that mean…?” 

“You have three choices. The green menu is for vegetarians. The red menu is for meat eaters, and the white menu is chef’s choice. Of course I’ll need to ask if either of you have food aller--”

 

“You mean I don’t even get to know what the fuck I’m eating?” 

“...I’ll have the white menu,” Laura said. 

“Ma’am, with regards to your question, you are aware how this restaurant works?” 

“I--well--red menu,” Carmilla finally said. 

“What’s making you so grumpy?” Laura asked, “seriously, I’m not letting you get us kicked out. I have an article to write.” 

“What ‘article?’” 

There was a pause, and suddenly, Carmilla could feel that Laura was a lot closer. 

 

“I’m actually part of the _Silas Siren,_ and I’m writing a review. But don’t tell anyone!”

She could actually _feel_ Laura’s breath on her face, and Carmilla had the sudden, weird sensation that the tables were being turned. How was someone’s voice that attractive? 

“I don’t have anyone to tell, sweetheart,” Carmilla drawled, making her voice as sensual as possible, “so I suppose your secret is safe with me.” 

“Oh...great…” 

Carmilla smirked at the slight tremor in Laura’s voice. She took a sip of her wine and licked her lips. 

“Why are you here?” Laura asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, you don’t seem like you’re that into this, and who eats at a restaurant by themselves?” 

“You?” 

“I--I will have you know that I was _not_ planning on going alone, it was just--um--what about you?” 

Carmilla frowned a little, then smirked. “Something you’re not telling me, cutie?” 

“I barely know you, Carmilla. I don’t know you at _all,_ actually. A super sexy voice doesn’t mean I suddenly lack a filter--” 

“I don’t think you have one to begin with, considering you just said my voice was ‘super sexy’ buttercup.” 

“You are so unbelievable,” Laura grumbled, “I had a date and instead I get stuck with _you._ ” 

“A _date?”_

There was a slight tone of smugness when Laura responded, “yeah, but then Danny had to cancel. I mean, she didn’t call it a date, but it was _pretty much_ a date--” 

“I’m not sure if that’s true.” 

Carmilla rested her chin on her hand. 

“What do you mean? She asked me out to dinner. In a fancy restaurant. That is totally a date. Plus she is _definitely_ gay, she told me she was.” 

It probably _was_ meant to be a date, but Carmilla was kind of having fun messing with her. 

“Two gay girls can just be friends, you know. Are you _sure_ it was a date?” 

“...Well, what fits _your_ criteria for ‘date?’” Laura asked. 

“Hard to say. You can’t split the check, the person who asked has to pick it up...unless previously agreed to of course. But you were both meeting separately?” 

“Yeah, I was driving home.” 

“Then it wasn’t a date--” 

“Was _too!”_ Laura exclaimed, “what makes you an expert on dating?”

“You’re not the only girl that enjoys this voice, cutie,” Carmilla answered, practically purring. She sipped from her wine glass again. 

“How do you know I’m _enjoying_ it? Or that I’m cute? You can’t even see me.” 

“The way your voice just cracked kind of gave it away,” Carmilla answered.

“...Whatever.” 

They lapsed into silence. Carmilla sipped her wine again, becoming painfully aware of how dark--pitch black dark--it really was. She tried not to let it get to her. There were plenty of people around, she could _hear_ them, and there was no reason to be nervous--

“Are you alright?” 

“What?” 

“It sounded like you kept clearing your throat, hitting her hand against the table and stuff.” 

“Oh, I’m-- _ow._ ” 

She hadn’t realized she’d been bouncing her knee until she banged it on the table. And felt something splash across her chest. Her wine glass. 

“Carmilla, are you _sure?”_

“Fine, fine, just splashed some wine on myself.” 

“Let me help.” 

The chair scraped against the restaurant floor, and fingers were gently running down Carmilla’s shirt to figure out the position of the stain. 

“...Okay, let me grab a napkin. Here.” 

She dabbed at the wet spot across Carmilla chest. At least she wore black. And now a woman was groping her freaking chest with a napkin. Carmilla would say this night had taken a turn for the awkward. 

“You have nice fingers, cupcake,” Carmilla said, trying to find some way to fill the silence. Laura squeaked. 

“Um--w-wow, that’s...very nice?” 

“Sorry. The innuendos are kind of a force of habit.” 

“It’s fine. Um, I can’t see your shirt but it feels dry now so...yeah.” 

“Thanks.” 

Laura sat back. “Seriously, are you sure you’re okay?” 

Carmilla sighed. 

In a way it was almost like Laura wasn’t real. Just a sweet voice. 

“I’m not a fan of the dark.” 

“I’m sorry,” Laura answered softly. 

There was another pause. 

“I’m not a fan of cars,” Laura added. 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“Don’t get defensive! I just thought I should share something too...I mean, I don’t know you that well, but you don’t seem like the type to go telling strangers about your phobias.” 

They were both saved by the waiter coming with their food. 

“Well, time to see what this food is all about!” Laura said cheerfully. There was a _tink_ as metal utensils hit plates, and then: 

“Oh my _God,_ ” Laura moaned, “I have no idea what I’m eating but it is amazing.” 

Carmilla took a bite of hers. She rolled it around in her mouth before swallowing. “...Teriyaki marinated veal.” 

“ _What?”_

“With mushrooms and...alfalfa.” 

“How can you _tell that?”_

Carmilla shrugged. “I go out to eat a lot. My palate is sophisticated.” 

“Can you tell me what the heck I’m eating then?” 

“Sure. Switch plates.” 

They pushed their plates toward each other. Carmilla took a bite. “...Rocky mountain oysters,” she said, taking a bite. 

“What is that?” 

“Cow balls.” 

Laura made a strangled noise. “What the _Slytherin?”_

Carmilla laughed. “Seriously?” 

“I like Harry Potter, okay.” 

“No, _that’s_ not why I’m laughing. I’m laughing because you believed me. This isn’t Rocky Mountain Oysters.” 

“...I hate you. So much. I barely know you but I hate you. But they’re not…?” 

“Nope. You’re eating crocodile.” 

“That’s _almost as bad!”_

“Jesus, open your mind a little. It tastes good, doesn’t it?” 

“But--but _crocodile_ \--” Laura took a deep breath. “You’re right. I am a critic, it is my job to remain objective…” 

She kept eating. “You like yours?” 

“I find it a little dry on the palate, but the alfalfa adds a nice, earthy flavor to an otherwise overly rich plate.” 

“Why am I the one writing the review?” Laura grumbled to herself. 

“I don’t know. I don’t work at the _Siren._ What’s your review?” 

“It tastes really good,” Laura said; there was the sound of a plate being slid across the table. “Only thing is that the portions are too small.” 

Carmilla laughed. “That’s, like, every restaurant. It costs fifty bucks for a piece of meat about the size of a postage stamp.” 

She finished her food. The waiter came back, took their plates, and placed a large plate in between them. 

“Dessert. You may use the toothpicks to dip your morsels.” 

He left. 

“Two toothpicks, I think,” Laura said, grabbing one, “I can’t feel any others.” 

“Same time?” Carmilla asked, picking hers up. 

“Sure, same time.” 

“ _Salud,_ ” Carmilla said dryly. They dipped their toothpicks into God knows what, putting God knows what into their mouths.

And, simultaneously: 

_“Mmmmmm.”_

“God, this is so chocolatey,” Carmilla said. 

“I _know,_ this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten, hands down.” 

“I fucking _love_ chocolate.” 

“Chocolate is the best!” Laura exclaimed, “maybe I don’t hate you afterall.” 

“You might change your mind again if you get to know me,” 

“Will I?” 

Carmilla paused. 

Was she really going to be attracted to a girl when she didn’t even see her? 

On one hand: this could go wrong. Very, very wrong. 

On the other: Laura’s voice was great, and this dinner was...actually not quite as shitty as she expected it to be. 

“...Let me pick up the check,” Carmilla said. 

“Um, why?” 

“Because you put up with me.” 

“It was...kind of entertaining,” Laura answered. “ _But,_ if you insist.” 

“Haha.” 

The check came; Carmilla paid it. Mattie threw her money like it was water anyway. Wasn’t like she was going to go broke picking up one fancy dinner check. 

The waiter led them back to the dimly lit lobby. 

Carmilla closed her eyes. 

“Your eyes closed too?” Laura asked. 

“Why are _your_ eyes closed?” 

“I don’t know, I just have an image of you in my head and I’m not sure I want it to get ruined.” 

“I assure you, it will not be ruined.” 

“Well, you go first.” 

Carmilla, slowly, opened her eyes. 

A round, soft face. Brunette hair--well, she wasn’t lying about the hair. Brown eyes. She was wearing slacks and a black jacket, buttoned partially over a shirt with what looked to be...giraffes. Which was oddly fitting. 

“Thank God,” Carmilla sighed, “you are really hot.” 

“Um, gee, thanks,” Laura said, blinking. 

“What?” Carmilla smirked. “Like what you see, Cupcake?” 

Laura swallowed. “You mean that huge red stain? _Really_ sexy, Carmilla.” 

Her eyes widened and she looked down at her shirt. “Oh, _shit,_ I didn’t realize it was that bad.” 

Laura started to laugh. “Here, come on.” 

“What?” 

“Take my jacket,” Laura held it out to her, “to cover the stain.” 

Carmilla frowned at Laura’s slim, outstretched hand. “But it’s yours.” 

Laura merely shrugged. “You paid for the dinner, for some reason, so it’s only fair.” 

Carmilla took the jacket. “Alright. Are you coming?” 

“Coming where…?” 

She smiled. “I paid for your dinner, so it’s also only fair you have to come with me to get a new shirt.” 

“That was _not_ part of the deal.” 

“Are you _complaining?”_

“I--” Laura stopped. She frowned, seemingly in deep thought. Instead of answering, she walked past Carmilla, opening the door of the restaurant. She looked back. 

“Well? I thought we were going.” 

Carmilla ran a hand through her hair, walking quickly to follow Laura into the street. It was evening, and as Carmilla observed her in the glow of the streetlamps, she couldn’t help but look forward to (hopefully) seeing her again when it was daytime and bright. 


End file.
